Confessions of a Former Bro Turned Feminist in Training

“Something happened when I started working with women.”

Hillary Rodham Clinton is the guest-editor of our Volume IV issue, on newsstands nationally December 5. She gave the keynote address at the first-ever Teen Vogue Summit in conversation with actress, scholar, and activist Yara Shahidi. The Teen Vogue Summit took place on December 1 & 2 in Los Angeles. Relive some moments here.

When I told my college friends I was writing about feminism for Teen Vogue, they laughed. My ex rolled her eyes. I get it. They know me. Until a few years ago, I spent much of my time in locker rooms and frat houses. I graduated from a men’s college, where I majored in English and minored in alpha-male-ing. I blasted music that described women like cars (and TBH, Kanye and Migos still run my playlists). I interrupted lady friends in conversations that were more interesting before
I showed up. I repeated women’s ideas in meetings and basked in the praise of my colleagues. I could go on, but it’s an ugly list.

I didn’t learn to be that way at home. The women in my family are sharp and determined. My MBA mom was a corporate executive for 30 years. My sister’s a lawyer at the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission! In spite of their best efforts to reach me with feminism, our country’s cultural machismo seeped into my pores.

But something happened when I started working with women. My first job out of college was at Google in “People Operations” (AKA HR), a department that, at the time, was comprised mostly of women and led by women. Without a boys’ club, I had to find a way to fit in. I had to listen. My boss was assertive and empathetic, words I’d been taught were opposites in male-dominated environments.

I was encouraged to discuss my life holistically, not just my work. Our team talked openly about gender bias and nepotism, and I began to see the connections between sexism and racism. In my next role, where I worked at a company that taught software engineering to mostly guys in their late 20s, we brought in experts to teach us how to identify and combat sexism. We learned about gaslighting, mansplaining, and other methods I had casually used to undermine women. After class, I’d discuss these concepts with our on-site female counselor, who helped me understand that self-hatred is often at the root of misogyny.

My outlook kept changing, and as a result, my relationships with women became healthier. When I, and the rest of the world, heard Donald Trump brag about grabbing women by the genitals, I felt pain. And I felt it again when I went to the Women’s March in NYC. Feminism, for me, was no longer this abstract word but something I’d had to spend real time with to understand. It had taken me 28 years.

It’s clear that “wokeness” is trending. If you’re a guy claiming to be for women’s rights and you live in a left-leaning city, as I do, hollow feminism can score you cool points, “likes,” even dates. It’s easy. But does it actually move the needle? As misogyny becomes legislated, it’s time for so-called woke bros to step off the soapbox and listen to the women around us. It’s not about appearing perfect but about realizing where you can improve and then standing up for what’s right. From there, our relationships — and maybe even our culture — can change.